


Dost Thou Even Hoist?

by 784



Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29660775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/784/pseuds/784
Summary: Ares Nordion is cursed. Forced to introspect after failing an action movie audition, his cousin drops another... except the bomb is a green-haired lady, and there is only one bed.
Relationships: Aless | Ares/Leen | Lene
Comments: 8
Kudos: 4





	1. Flippant

**Author's Note:**

> [Prompt inspo.](http://www.lanternreview.com/blog/2020/04/01/30-days-of-poetry-play-for-national-poetry-month-or-anytime/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: inversion.

Ares Nordion truly couldn’t believe this was happening.

He _glared_ at the other person, which… according to his cousins and closest friends, a war criminal by default. To be fair, he didn’t know how villainous his stare was. He had no reason to glare at himself so far. He liked what he saw in the mirror everyday, though—which itself was his own reflection, not some ghostly apparition manifesting audaciously without being invited to. Actually, forget that part—he sure as hell would charge this ghost a rent fee for residing in his mirror like that.

“Come again,” he muttered in disbelief. “I am what?”

The person he was conversing-slash-threatening did not even budge. Instead, she entwined her fingers, clasping her hands and resting them over the desk. There really wasn’t any pretty way to solve this all, apparently, because… gods, if she could be honest, she hated this job. She hated having to do this already. “Rejected,” she said, plain and simple. “I’m truly sorry, but you failed the audition.”

… He truly couldn’t believe this. The woman who relayed the message to him did it serenely—gracious, even, because she did not flinch under that unintentional death stare. But then again perhaps he should have known that the people who were hired to be the bearer of bad news were _very_ tough. That was all this woman needed to tell him, because gods be damned indeed, she looked like she couldn’t care less if he spilled tears right there hearing it. “I mean,” he squeaked. That alone already felt strange—Ares Hezul Nordion, proud and was a no-screamer, never squeaked for as long as he could remember.

Did he remember it right, though?

“Sir…”

“Ares.”

The woman lifted her face. When she spared him a small sympathetic smile, he took a step back. That really wasn’t fun at all for some reason… perhaps it would have been better if she called security on him so he disappeared.

“Alright then, Ares.”

He silently swore he hated flinching like that.

“First of all, I’d like to thank you for the time you allocated for taking the audition,” the woman continued. She reached for a folder kept under the counter, originally hidden from his line of vision. His heart throbbed when she put the folder _on_ the counter and opened it for him. He wished this wasn’t necessary—nothing good ever came when his heart throbbed like that. He didn’t like defeat. He didn’t like being defeated in a war he wasn’t even sure of, but knowing how prepared he was for the battle he _was_ sure of… now now, that hurt. “Your portfolio says you are a supermarket security guard?”

“Yes?”

Ares hated that his mouth felt dry. Yes, and what of it? What about this rather unexciting job of his, anyway? Usually it was the low canopy the supermarket owner installed—supposedly to make a sound whenever people entered the store. Lucky for him, the animosity was mutual. He bumped into that canopy every so often, and the canopy had kindly returned his affection by dropping remnants of rain water on top of his head every so often just the same.

“Ah, then the future is bright!” the woman exclaimed, prompting the corner of his mouth to twitch. Bright? If this is the future, then his flashlight had to be brighter. “You are a talented individual,” she kept on. “There has to be a slot for you elsewhere. The best for the best, only somewhere else.”

… He smiled.

That gesture truly caught the woman off guard, but he figured he had stopped caring then. The best for the best? He could argue about that. He could _not_ argue about that, either. Was he fit? Yes. Strongest? Sometimes that position didn’t have to be singular. Not everything was a zero-sum game, or so Cousin Diarmuid said. But then again Diarmuid was also the kind of person who easily surrendered his Ferrero Rocher packs to Cousin Nanna, so the older Leonster sibling lost his credibility in his eyes. To be fair, Nanna made a relentless enemy whenever a pack of godly chocolate treat was involved, but no—he wouldn’t be talking about that. The rule of Fight Club was not to talk about the club, right?

“I get it.” Ares hated how bitter his smile had to be. The reply was delivered under his breath and he couldn’t wait to channel that energy elsewhere. Probably something else that didn’t require… action, considering _that_ exactly was what turned him down in the first place. “Yeah. No problem.”

He grabbed the folder messily. He walked fast as he typically did—soundless, with long paces; his talons firmly planted against the ground, cautious but also direct. He won his job because the hiring manager was impressed by his alertness, yet now he wondered if that even mattered because that was all of him—defeated, kicked out from the place he truly aimed to be at most. The corridor he trod on was busy. People from wherever-who cares were visiting it, walking back and forth to disappear in one of those sealed office rooms with a fancy door handle like the one he visited prior. Technically, the corridor wasn’t sparse. This building was not. And yet—

“Come on now,” Ares cussed. “I couldn’t be sad just because of this.”

He yanked the front glass door. More and more it was getting hard to deny that something erupted in his chest, poking all his nerves like a restless imp. He hated this. He hated this disturbance… but perhaps he hated how this managed to disturb him more than he predicted it would. It was just a failed test; a job that slipped away—

“Good afternoon.”

Ares’ lips pressed tightly as he handed his visitor identification card back to the receptionist outside. She stamped yet another whatever-who cares-something over her gold-foiled guestbook. Unfortunately his eyes collided with the poster plastered on the wall behind her… tugging on his misery even more.

“Here you go,” the receptionist’s voice tore Ares’ sad musing. “Thank you, have a good day.”

“Dear _fuck_ ,” Ares mumbled. “Not Scipio Jungby.”

Yet it was futile to escape the truth. The poster did bear the face of Scipio Jungby—a promising young actor and model; a socialite whose name easily decorated Jugdral’s top lifestyle articles every now and then. Ares stared haplessly at the other man’s static proud smile, feeling this sudden urge to _grab_ that poster and probably tear it into pieces, signing that wall behind the poor receptionist with his own balled fist. So this was the other actor of the movie he auditioned to be a sidekick for? Scipio Jungby? _That_ Scipio, with his unforgettable long dirty blond hair and curtain-like front fringes?

“Is something wrong?” the receptionist frowned. Ares regretted having appeared to be intimidating in her presence, but—

“Scipio,” he blurted, unsure if he was even coherent enough at this point. “He’s in the movie?”

The receptionist smiled. “The main actor. Didn’t they tell you?”

Ares blinked. His lips parted to find any response to spare the unknowing receptionist, but alas—no, he was left without words. Those weren’t his strongest skill already, and right now with the wild emotion he didn’t know could hit this hard, he had questions. He had _many_ questions without intention to ask them at the same time. Strange.

“No.”

“Oh…” the receptionist looked at him. “W-well…”

“Good afternoon,” he bobbed his head. There was no need to waste time, either. His fight was over. He lost it.

… He wondered why he felt as though he just swallowed sands by the time he reached the building’s parking lot, ready to retrieve his motorbike and vaporize this emotion on the road… to oblivion.

********

  
  


She dragged her suitcase with one hand.

Her other hand didn’t help at all. She was busy holding several things at once—her phone, a _friggin_ printed map, and her own purse. By now she suspected her purse was secretly screaming in agony for the treatment she subjected into. And—gasp! She even forgot to moisturize and coat that purse with sunscreen!

“Alright,” she whined. “I know Darna is hot, but not this hot. Goodness…”

She pouted. Why did she agree to this, after all? Then again, why must life be so unfair? Why did her phone get to be pickpocketed, stolen whilst she wasn’t looking? How did the local library become so underfunded that three out of five computer units had to be out of use—and two were constantly occupied each time she was there? She didn’t ask any of these. Not even the most masochist person she knew—which she interpreted to be spicy food lovers—woke up one day and besought whatever god they believed in to have their phone stolen.

“I can’t even wipe my forehead,” she lamented, bringing back her screen to live. Her reflection there noted the perilous journey she made to get there—the sun was _blazing_ hot, she hated her suitcase, and… again, gasp—this was the least favorite ribbon she had, because the color was black and not her trademark pink!

Lene Bragi wisely judged that it was time to give up when she tripped on her own suitcase for the tenth time. The old suitcase had been giving her a challenging time every so often, like an uncompromising scary employer she had the privilege to experience in the past. Thankfully, her old suitcase didn’t protest when she sourly kicked it. The last time she had a less-pleasant than an old suitcase of an employer, he fired her on the spot.

“Sidewinder Street. House number…” she squinted, trying to read her screen under the sun. She had saved the email her friend sent her, including a photo of the house as an additional information. Cars flew past her here and there and she began to have doubts.

She had followed a local, small group of musicians touring for around a week. They needed background dancers—meager pay, but pretty nice to take up as a side gig. After all every penny counted. A girl had to live, but at the same time she had to eat. Thankfully her friend Laylea managed to convince the band leader to take her in too, so there she was, the unexpected extra, yet welcomed regardless. Even Laylea couldn’t say she didn’t do a great job—together they made a fabulous pair as background dancers parted themselves into three pairs, arms linked with each other’s as they took turn to help their partners to do a little acrobatic jump in-between of blasting electric guitar sounds.

“This will make a nice addition to that sweet, sweet portfolio you are planning,” Laylea chuckled. They barely had time to cool down and drink, but Lene was more than ready than anything. She had performed for longer hours than that. She had juggled college courses and auditions. People seemed to have this idea that only big-name dancers were experienced enough to take bigger stages, but she would disagree—sometimes professionalism had nothing to do with luck or fame, and every dancer she knew pumped their legs as rigorous as many student athletes she had the chance knowing.

“Are you building a portfolio?” another background dancer intruded. “Sorry. Overheard,” he muttered sheepishly. “Dancers gotta take care of each other.”

Lordy, she couldn’t agree more. She agreed to be introduced to the male dancer’s acquaintance—a magazine-affiliated photographer who started to spread his wings by trying out different areas. Videography happened to be the latest interest he landed his eyes into, and through word of mouth and the connections obtained via ‘a friend of a friend of my friend’, she got into a phone call with a cheerful man, who introduced himself as Diarmuid Leonster.

“So it’s like a choreography reel, isn’t it?” Diarmuid said. “I think I can do that, yeah. Why don’t we meet?”

Lene sighed when the latest car she tried to stop didn’t bother. Admittedly, she was lost. Diarmuid’s sister Nanna had given her a detailed direction, but she had never been here before, and by now she believed anyone who resided at the street called Sidewinder must be otherworldly. Maybe assassins! Maybe people outside her own kin. Maybe wizards, because for the love of sunscreen, she could not find the address.

“Why on earth did I agree?” she whined.

The answer was actually simple. Why on earth didn’t she, when money was in the question? Her business almost left her literally breathless. Meeting up with Diarmuid resulted in some small networking because he was just _enthusiastically_ interested helping her. It already felt so wrong to receive the help without having to pay, but Diarmuid’s reassurance about the free service was at least successful enough preventing her from losing sleep.

“Don’t worry! This will be a win-win for both of us. You get your reel, and I’ll get my portfolio as well. You’re not the only one aiming for some nice gigs.” Admittedly, Diarmuid’s way of speaking was charming. He was also diplomatic, and her suspicion was simply vanquished through a simple inquiry.

“Let me guess,” she shot him at that time. “Were you a law major?”

“Gods. No.” When Diarmuid groaned, Lene breathed relief. “I just did some video job for my cousin,” he explained. “It will be nice to refresh the skill and knowledge right away.”

“Is your cousin a dancer?” by then she asked. Dancers were supposed to take care of each other. It wouldn’t be surprising if her pleas were received by another.

“Not at all. Ares and art don’t match,” Nanna snorted as Diarmuid smirked.

Lene concluded that this was the third person of this unique Blond Club then—Ares, the oldest of them three, the cousin of Leonster siblings. But she didn’t have enough time to ask more because tight schedule suffocated her enough, leaving her exhausted. She was barely home to sleep, spending the whole day outside to take a couple of shots _and_ edit them with Diarmuid. Her day job as a waitress wasn’t so merciful, either, and forget the nice routine of soaking her tired feet for some aromatic nourishing bath—her busiest days left her practically half-dead.

Which explained why it took days until she noticed that _dumb_ letter…

“Sorry, pardon—sorry—oops!” she squealed when her old suitcase managed to trap her legs again. “I’m looking for this address…”

Thankfully the next driver stopped and was kind enough to help. She surely could pretend she didn’t see that narrowing stare from the driver because of how messy she looked like, and she returned the kind gesture by stepping a few steps away just so this driver could see her feet were on the ground—she wasn’t a ghost.

Her landlord sent her an eviction notice because apparently she didn’t know they were raising the rent price. She already missed the deadline because of the time she spent outside, and…

Suffice to say storming the landlord’s own house to demand an explanation and then _begged_ for extension didn’t end favorably to her. Ending the fateful day with a proud flashing middle-finger, there she was, at point zero after spending the night at a cheap motel near the cafe she worked at. But then he figured life wasn’t so cruel because the Leonster siblings turned out to be a package—befriend one, get one as a friend too for free.

“I’m sorry to be so abrupt, but…” Nanna, the softspoken Nanna, fidgeted with her dress. “Perhaps I have the solution, but I don’t think you will like it.”

“Huh?” her ears flapped at an instant. Nanna wouldn’t have to worry about her feelings—that landlord already tore it into pieces and stepped on the shards, after all. “What could be worse than getting kicked out of my own house anyway?” she asked. “Getting a new place to crash on so suddenly? Haha~ my, Nanna, that can’t—“

But Nanna’s expression was as flat as Diarmuid’s butt she just kicked as a warning.

Lene sighed. Finally her search had come to an end. Standing before her was a very simple house—almost like a cabin, wooden too… and she started flirting with the idea whether the people who populated this neighborhood were indeed, wizards. There was a _KEEP OUT_ sign planted on the little area of what one might call a lawn.

She blinked this time. Keep out? From what? And oh, boy—her reverend father raised her right that she wouldn’t do a point-and-laugh at things people couldn’t change so easily within mere minutes. But this haunted house was--

Right. What if it _was_ a haunted house indeed?

“Alright, this is it,” Lene bit her lips. Like it or not, this would be her house from now on. It would be nice to be able to unpack her suitcase again. Even if the house was haunted, she wouldn’t live there forever—just enough until she could score a new place again. Life was scarier than ghosts already, and experiences told her human men made a more menacing threat than dirty towels at a cheap motel!

Slowly, she slid further. Tilting her head left and right she tried to spot if there was any uncanny sign around. A prankster’s camera, perhaps? A planted flag? Anything that screamed an identification? Nanna did say Cousin Ares was an eccentric man. Lene caught the trail of hesitation between his name and the adjective Nanna used to describe him, but then she quickly said Cousin Ares was also blond like her and Diarmuid—shoulder-length, rather tall; and to quote, “you will recognize him at an instant.” That aside, supposedly she wouldn’t have to worry about it because Cousin Ares wouldn’t be there just like he said—touring to shoot a blood-pumping action movie for at least two months. Everything was set. Everything was talked about, and he would _understand._

“But what if he wouldn’t?”

Now Lene sorely regretted the righteous question she asked the Leonster siblings back then. Right—what if he wouldn’t? Just because the man wasn’t there, her doubts wouldn’t just go away so easily!

“Good question,” Diarmuid scratched his head. “Because this is Ares, he would.”

“Right. As eccentric as he is, he still eats human food,” Nanna joined in with a nervous chuckle. “… Right?”

Diarmuid couldn’t say. Lene was unconvinced.

“Alright, what can I assembly suppose Cousin Ares is a vampire?” she stopped in front of the door. The house appeared dark… and admittedly, intimidating. She pouted again—should have snatched those cross-shaped piercings when they were on discount. If she crossed her shoes together, they could probably pass as a desperate cross, but which one was more tolerable, being fed on by a vampire, or having to run back to the street with an old fully-stuffed suitcase barefoot?

Desperate situation called for desperate measures, so the former won.

Lene’s face turned red out of trying to grab the heavy loading just so her suitcase didn’t come into contact with the ground, thus making a sound. She took a deliberate detour of the house’s exterior, glancing at the door (sturdy), the window (humane enough), the backdoor (intact), feeling glad beyond belief when she spotted a simple fridge at the corner of a somber-looking pantry. “So Cousin Ares eats human food!” belated, she dug into her purse to find the spare key Nanna left her with. Cousin Ares ate human food. Cousin Ares ate… human—

Lene decided not to entertain her wild thoughts. The key worked. She got in.

“Gods,” she muttered, slamming herself down the couch. How nice it was to be able to sit again! The sofa was pretty soft. She wasn’t disappointed. More than that, the switch worked—no more darkness, this had to be a human house!

“Black… velvet?” Lene blinked. Right. The sofa was black! The cushions were monochrome, in gray and white stripes. The coffee table in front of the sofa looked so lonely without a vase decorating it, save for a simple checkered tablecloth with a metal ashtray there. Lene was convinced that Cousin Ares had to be human, then—vampires were very old, had been living for a very long time and fed on unhealthy blood diet; they shouldn’t smoke if they still wanted to fly as a bat. Conclusion—Cousin Ares wasn’t!

“It’s not too bad,” her lips pursed. Optimism for her meant courage—not naivety. What she could endure she took as a sign that her life wasn’t completely ruined. After all giving up too quickly wouldn’t do people like her any good. “Maybe I can make myself a drink. Maybe I can start unpacking…”

She didn’t expect to hear a sound.

… She didn’t expect to hear a _hum._

The voice was rather deep, _charming_ if she had to admit—because of the subtle rawness in it. Yet her mind instantly went alert because _a man’s voice_ intruded on her so suddenly. Wasn’t this house supposed to be empty? Did she get the wrong address? Then how come the key matched? Was she tagged by a ghost, to orchestrate her capture? Did her arrival was herded by some kind of otherworldly force?

“ _Fucking fuck.”_

Lene blinked.

“Shit, now my razor got jammed too. Whatever, old style it is then.”

She brought her face closer to the wall where the voice came from.

“Actually, forget it. I’ll bite my own beard if I have to. No razor, we chew hairs like men. Scipio can’t do this, I bet.”

She scratched her head. She could hear another sound—someone was getting out, judging from the door that was opened and then closed. Perhaps she should start the introduction considering she was the guest, after all—

“Um…”

She hated how meek her voice sounded. She _loathed_ feeling weak.

“Excuse me, I’m…”

The man with beard-chewing mission turned around. From where she stood, she could see him—tall with toned back and arms, with a crest-like birthmark on his upper shoulder. He had a lean body, provided her vision and the somber light didn’t deceive her; yet still pretty muscular—noting someone who wore strength as his middle name. His damp blond hair shone under the light, and…

“Oh my God, you are Cousin Ares!!”

And she forgot something—he was bare-chested, donning a towel which wrapped him around the waist to above the knees, cream in color which reminded her of a Roman legionary soldier in ancient mosaics. It didn’t help that the eccentric cousin was named after _the_ god of war, either—and she began to wonder if the last driver whom she asked for direction had accidentally road-killed her and sent her soul to Olympus.

“Goddammit, Nanna. How many times should I tell you to…”

He lost his voice at an instant. It wasn’t Cousin Nanna; not at all—instead, a lady he had never met before was standing in front of him, her mouth gaping wildly with shocked, widened eyes. The woman styled her green hair into a ponytail, and her big green eyes were _very_ expressive and deep at the same time, lulling him in.

“I—I’m…” she attempted to speak, but _of course_ her old suitcase was acting again and _loved_ to strike her when she wasn’t ready to take its revenge. With the vengeance being delivered swiftly, Lene tumbled forward by accident as her legs got caught in the old suitcase’s slaughter… conveniently. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know… um, are you…”

He _blinked back_ when her panicked hands ripped down his towel by accident.


	2. Contrast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: personified colors.

“Nanna.”

“I know you are mad at me, but…”

“That only means you don’t.”

“Alright. I know you are mad—”

“ _Nanna.”_

“Alright. You don’t like strangers living in your house. We all don’t. And yet…”

“Correction: I don’t like _other people_ living in my house,” Ares huffed. He glanced on whatever leftover the unexpected guest… no, _intruder,_ he ought to say, left on the floor. An unopened old suitcase which he highly suspected could use some oiling and padlock change. If he spotted this girl elsewhere and not here, that probably would be the first thing he pointed out to her too.

“… Fine,” Nanna replied after some breath- blowing. “Where is Lene now?”

“That’s her name?”

“You didn’t even ask?”

“Why should I?”

There was some real good silence and Ares waited. Nanna was a smart woman, and she would be able to tell that he was, after all, serious. He wasn’t a comedian.

“Ares,” Nanna tried again. “You can’t possibly send her back in.”

“That is for me to decide, dear cousin.”

Nanna paused. “You know,” she said. “I hate it when you use your Ares tone.”

“I hate it knowing you deliberately gave my key to a stranger I don’t recognize to nest in my house.”

“Yet you are here!” Nanna replied, frustrated. “She isn’t a stranger to me and D.”

“Then excuse me for not knowing the people you are acquainted with.”

“Ares…”

“Nanna,” Ares muttered. “I gave you that key because you and Diarmuid agreed to look after my house when I’m gone. I don’t like unnecessary distractions.”

“Social contacts.”

“Whatever that one is called, honestly.”

“Please, just… gods. Be a bit of a gentleman here, will you?”

“If I wasn’t, she’d be out at the streets now.”

There was yet another pause from the other side of the phone. Ares’ rebuttal was nothing but to the point-sharp, simple and effective. His tone being flat without a hint of anger successfully grounded all the arguments she could think of. “I can explain,” she squeaked. Being the oldest of all three, Ares surely had a way to pull that older brother tone without meaning to. What was this again, the virtue of being the oldest? “Her landlord kicked her out,” Nanna whispered, as though she was trying to avoid Lene catching their conversation from within earshot. Didn’t Ares say she was in the bathroom?

“And I did not,” Ares replied simply. “… For now.”

“Ares,” Nanna _begged._ “She has nowhere to go.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t send her here.”

“Please.” At this point she was ready to beseech him. Cousin Ares _could_ be talked to, for as long as she knew him; his responses might not be telling from the start but words would stay, and Nanna was willing to bet on that. “Her landlord kicked her out. Then…”

Ares tilted a little bit. The door was making a sound, and he understood what it meant—Lene was done, and she was coming out of the bathroom. He suspected this unexpected woman was trying her best to be discreet, which explained the stealthiness.

… Suddenly, he felt guilty.

This woman was supposed to get caught between a misunderstanding; something she didn’t even start to begin with. It was already too dark outside even if he was heartless enough to send her out to the streets. The pang in his chest staged a rebellion against his conscience, barging into his mind loud enough just so he stopped to think. And damn, this urging was persistent too.

“I think she is done,” he returned his attention back on the phone. He wondered if his cousin knew, but he could sense it—Nanna paused, becoming completely still. Not even a single movement was heard from the other side and by now he was convinced Nanna was holding her breath… probably just like Lene did, behind him. “You know what,” he muttered. “Let’s continue later. Shouldn’t speak of a woman behind her back.”

“Thank you very much!” Nanna chimed. “I’m truly, terribly sorry for troubling you. I’ll help you out as well—if she can find a new apartment to live, I suppose she won’t stay for a long time. Perhaps I can dock her in a motel as an apology. And then…”

“Later, Nanna.” Ares sighed, quickly cutting the line before his cousin managed to argue again. How confusing. He was sure he could tell Lene to get out of his house. If Nanna was willing to take part in clearing this misunderstanding by relocating her to a motel, then there shouldn’t be much left for them to do; this way they could make a proper apology, and it wasn’t like they threw her out to the streets defenseless.

Yet somehow the more he thought of these ideas, the harder it was for him to do. The old suitcase alone told a story of enduring perseverance, and he figured if he was to kick her out here and now, the _very least_ he could do was giving a chance for her story to be heard. For someone who got kicked out of her apartment so early, Lene didn’t seem to have many things on her person.

Ares breathed in. If this was just yet another dishonesty at his expense…

“Um…”

He released. His back was facing her. He pictured Lene to be just around, hesitate but also eager considering that old suitcase rested near his feet. He wondered if she was afraid—something which took him back to the women who handled his rejected application at the studio. A thought crept upon him—was he _scary,_ which prompted the first woman to attempt addressing him more formally?

… Then this couldn’t do. He should be better than this.

“Your clothes?” his question was to the point. The night wouldn’t turn younger, after all—better make the most of it, in case he had to load her elsewhere tonight indeed.

“Yes.”

He noted that she didn’t sound demure this time. If anything, she was firm, and he detected a warning in her tone. Somehow the corner of his mouth twitched up a bit. Probably he wasn’t the only lion with a pride to protect here. The new woman acknowledged her guilt for coming into his house like that, but she wasn’t apologizing for the old suitcase—

He knew he could respect it.

“Go on,” he replied. He wondered if it would be better for him to tone down his voice; making him sound more palatable… _kinder_ for this woman to hear. “Grab your clothes. I won’t look.”

Sighing, Ares dug into his pocket, fishing out his gun-shaped lighter. Not bothering to take any more chance to look back, he simply strolled outside, closing the door without a sound. He dropped his weight onto the mat, just in front of the door over the cemented pavement which served as a gateway into his house. Slow but sure he could hear some activities commencing behind the door. Lene probably had been moving around because he could hear something being pulled over the floor. Blowing a smoke out of a simple cigarette he rarely took, he dropped the little rolled nicotine paper and killed it with a simple stomp.

The sky was indeed dark and the street was empty. Time to get back in. Even he wouldn’t train when the world had quieted like that. He valued the place because of the tranquility, but it wouldn’t take a guess to gauge that the darkness could be unnerving.

“Need help?”

Lene stopped. Out of reflex she wrapped her towel around her… tighter. She had changed into a more comfortable shirt, wearing her hair into a classic, three-strand woven braid. She was ready to go. She discarded the shirt she wore during the day, and opted out for a tanktop and cardigan to layer it. If she could crash elsewhere, she’d only need to take off the cardigan. If the worst was to happen and she had to taste the night literally at the street, then…

Her throat felt dry. That really wasn’t in her mind until now.

“It’s quite heavy,” she brushed him off.

“I can see that.”

The reply she received from Ares was deadpan. He watched her trying to move the old suitcase, dragging it towards the front door. She decided not to respond. She would get this out, apologize to him, and everything would end there then. Too bad that the old suitcase finally gave in; probably as weary as she was after enduring the unexpected journey so silently. Or perhaps even long before—

She gasped. The zip snapped with a not-so-tame sound, cleaving the suitcase open. Her clothes poured out like debris, much to her horror. This was too much. She _could_ handle misfortune… but not when everything came crashing on her at the same time. Quickly, she gathered every clothing article, stuffing back into the suitcase to give herself time to be busy and avoiding the blond man in black who still looked at her.

And then she got up.

She flashed him a smile. Professional, professional for her everyday standard. She figured customer service had a tone, but dancers had their way to conceal exhaustion. “Done now~!” she said. “Again, I’m truly sorry for troubling you. Thank you very much for the bathroom.”

“And where will you go?”

This man probably could pass as an interrogator for the special forces.

“I’ll find a way,” she shrugged. _Conceal, conceal, conceal._ “And I can drag this too to walk with me. Slow but sure is alright—safer.”

He looked at her.

She looked back. If he wanted to test her resolve, then she was up for a challenge. If her bills and tight schedule couldn’t break her, then a tall blond man in all-black clothing couldn’t, either. “I’ll be off. Again, thank you and I’m so sorry.”

… He heaved. She waited warily, but he merely moved towards the door… to close it. Anxiety started grappling her from the inside as well. This man wasn’t pleased to receive a sudden guest—who aimed to occupy his house during his supposed absence. Yet he looked like he had a change of mind, and regardless how eccentric this Cousin Ares was, she would not lower her guard.

“It’s getting windy.”

Again, Ares spoke like that. Blunt, simple, but at the same time honest. Strange, his approach somehow worked—she felt she could talk to him exactly because he was like that. The honesty made her feel like she could lower her guard. Could she?

“It’s hot here, but the nights are cold,” Ares continued, as though he read her mind. “Frankly, I don’t have a heater nor an air conditioner. Unnecessary bill.”

That reply somehow tickled her. Unnecessary bill? He didn’t even look ashamed or hesitate to tell her that. Honestly—how many guys could say their house was unflattering with a straight face? And how many of them had she met so far?

“My cousin told me you are called Lene,” he spoke again, tearing her from her own thoughts. “Is that true?”

She nodded. “Your cousins said your name is Ares.”

“I am.”

Again, his response was frank and unhesitating.

“Nanna said you got kicked out of your apartment. How come?”

If Ares was interested in her story, so that was probably a plus. At least even if she had to leave, he would know that she did not plan this at all. It would be one thing to be hated for making a mistake, but being hated out of presumption? No, she wouldn’t have it. “Yes,” she replied, trying to find suitable words… to advocate for her without leaving her feel _that_ vulnerable. “I suppose she has told you that I dance.”

He nodded back.

“Um…” she wanted to speak, but he stopped her.

“There’s nothing fancy here, so I hope some tea will do.” She _stared_ at him. Yet he casually turned his back on her, heading towards the small pantry near the bathroom which she used prior. “I’ll carry that suitcase for you after this.”

“Um—you don’t have to,” finally she answered, glad to catch him before he left. “I’ll have the taxi driver lift it for me. If the zip is damaged, this should sit with me instead of being in the trunk.”

“Yeah,” Ares bobbed his head. “That is wise.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, not knowing what else to respond. Half of her couldn’t wait to sit with him just so this was over. Another half, however…

“Nah. It’s alright.”

She lifted her face off the ground. Did she hear it right? He said it was alright?

“If you want to unwind, you can open the window,” Lene heard Ares speaking from the pantry. “Fair warning though, some trees around here are tall. If you’re new here, their silhouette can be deceiving. I have never heard of stray animal attack, though.”

She still stared. He, on the other hand, casually strolled back to the parlor with a cup of tea in his hand. She couldn’t believe this. He really made her tea. He wasn’t kicking her out tonight! “Thank you so much~!”

Her line seemed to genuinely surprise him as well that he nearly dropped the cup. Thankfully the little porcelain thing didn’t break and landed safely on the enduring coffee table; a simple furniture just like almost everything in the little house she had seen so far. “What for?”

“For being sooo kind like this!” Lene smiled. “Your cousins said you are quite an eccentric man, but if this is what eccentric means, then I suppose you are just really nice!”

“I am not,” Ares scratched his head.

“I beg to disagree!” she shook her head. Her starry eyes nearly curbed his tongue, but judging from how relieved she appeared to be, Ares could be certain that not even Lene seemed to realize she had done something shocking. Well, shocking, by his standard! Starry-eyes, for him? The last time it happened, it was because he accidentally knocked Diarmuid out cold when they were playing soccer! “This alone is really nice of you. I swear I will try not to inconvenience you… ahem, further.”

“Try, huh?” the corner of his mouth twitched a little bit, forming a smirk. However even then his expression softened a little, and Lene welcomed this change with a _very_ pleased mood. Of course it was nice to be able to sincerely smile again after what she had been through! Artists like her didn’t forget the people who gave a helping hand, so even if Ares could only receive her for a single night, she was already grateful. The thought of having to sleep somewhere-strange made her shudder—what if it the place was risky? She didn’t even know this region!

“Well,” she replied demurely on purpose, batting her eyelashes with half of her face hidden by teacup she was sipping. “… Considering the circumstances…”

“At least you are aware,” he shrugged, opening a can of soda for himself. When he saw that she stopped drinking instantly, he looked at her—right into her eyes before she managed to drown her face with the cup again. “That was a joke.”

“Oh…”

Ares made a humming sound. Lene caught his sheepish gesture, feeling intrigued and curious at the same time. Joke? Could it be that Nanna’s eccentric cousin did that on purpose to make things smoother? To break the ice so that she could talk to him? Yet he seemed to be aware that she was watching, so he put down his coke can and glanced back at her. “Yeah?”

“So, Mister… eh, Leonster?” she rolled back her tongue at an instant because he lifted his hand.

“Nordion. The mother of Nanna and Diarmuid is my father’s younger sister.”

“I—see. So, Mr. No…”

“Ares is fine.”

She stopped.

“I guess it’s only fair since I only know your first name,” he muttered faintly. “So I'm Ares, you are Lene.”

“Yes! It’s Lene Bragi.” Unhesitating, she captured his hand to weave him into a handshake. She caught him flinching a little, but his expression didn’t show any disgust. Was that a blush? Was he embarrassed? … What a surprise indeed. What a nice surprise.

“I see,” Ares replied awkwardly. “We’ll talk more later. For now, I suppose…” he glanced at her suitcase. “Perhaps we can stuff that in the room I use to work.”

She quickly rushed to catch up, but he already took a hold of the old suitcase. Her eyes were wide open now that he casually swung it around so that he could have a comfortable grip, preventing the torn zip to cleave open again. Not only that, he held the suitcase by the crook of his arm as though it weighed a feather! If it wasn’t for this realization that Ares was gone with all her clothes in tow, Lene knew it probably took a few seconds longer to recover from that sight.

… It didn’t help that his golden blond hair wasn’t the only one that shone under the light, though—his muscles too, when they contracted as he took that suitcase with him.

Tailing him from behind, she watched him setting down the suitcase in a small room; mostly filled with shelves containing books and CDs, with a simple laptop set. She began to appraise the room, searching for a corner to conveniently positioned herself in if this was where she slept for the night. Yes, this room was small, just a modest working space as Ares told her, but she would manage. After all there was probably foot of good height difference between him and her. If she had to camp on the floor there for the night, then she could do this. Ares probably would have a hard time to stretch his legs, not her.

“Thank you,” she said when he finally rest down the suitcase.

“Perhaps we can wax the zip,” Ares replied—probably more to himself than her.

“Oh, no need. You’ve been so kind after all…”

“Hmmm. I’m not sure myself, but worth trying than leaving it like that.”

“Thank you very much! Oooh, dear, for a scary person, you are kind,” she chirped out of reflex. He stopped talking, catching her from the corner of his eyes. He couldn’t believe his ears. Scary? Yes. Kind? For waxing a broken zip? For being sensible enough to offer her lift her suitcase, knowing well the old horse had bulged and overloaded, and might hinder the dancer’s steps?

“I don’t understand, but you’re welcome, I suppose.”

“Oh, no. I made you embarrassed~!” she chuckled a little bit. “It’s okay! You know, these things are probably basic for you, but believe me—not many people are as nice as you are. Um, how much does an inn around here charge? Let me pay you back. Actually, yes, I _will_ pay you back! Not the kind of girl who only knows how to take, you see~? Or… ah, yes—how about I make you dinner? Wait, can I use your pantry if at all? Um, let’s just put it together as though this is an inn and tomorrow I’ll check your biceps out. I mean, tomorrow I’ll check myself out of here, sure! So…”

“So it’s okay,” Ares cut in. “Lene.”

She gasped.

“Is this all, or is there anything else?” he appraised her a little bit. The dancer was of modest stature, and didn’t look so muscular. Did she truly mean to drag this suitcase all nights to sleep at the park or something? Somehow the idea alone made _him_ shiver. “If you’re tired, I’ll leave you to rest. Frankly, you need it.”

“Um. Mister Nordion, Sir—no, Ares! There is one thing.”

He hated that sudden tickling sensation in his chest when he heard her quip.

“Your things are all black,” she blurted. “I mean, look at you. Tanktop, black. Shorts, black. Cushions, monochrome. Sofa, black! Curtains, gray! Are you a wizard?”

“Some things are non-negotiable, _Miss Bragi_.”

… He said that, yet there was a faint twinkle in his eyes as he ended his reply with a hum.


	3. Consensus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: abecedarian.

When he woke up, he was disoriented.

At first he thought he had overslept on the job—overstaying the night at the shooting location, perusing the warehouse and getting acquainted with it as stuntmen typically did. Having been on a shooting set a couple of times, there were times when they went to the most obscure places and sets to substitute for the main actors—and sometimes stayed up late even after the actors concluded their takes for the day.

But the last set he was in was a car crash scenery, shot in a pretty daring way too. The setup was that of a canyon, done in a truly outdoor setting instead of a typical studio shot. It was nerve-wracking even for the main actors, but he remembered his own perseverance and solid stern look by the time he went in to do his role. It wasn’t pleasant. He wasn’t even substituting for the main actor yet—instead, it was a daring scene where he would be killed in what looked like a train fight.

“Ares?”

“Alright. Shit. I’m awake—!” he shouted. A tame grunt made past his throat right after. Ares opened his eyes, glaring sourly at whatever it was which he felt to be colliding with the crown of his head.

“Oooh dear gods! Are you alright in there?”

He paused. The call just now was different. It wasn’t a movie director yelling through a loud speaker to gather all the actors and stuntmen or prompted everyone to take their positions on the set. It wasn’t some high-paying actors who communicated in such a way which… he wasn’t typically fond of, either. Rather, the voice calling him was actually nice—vivacious, energetic, but at the same time soft. Strange. Being woken up wasn’t supposed to be a tantalizing experience, yet there he was, wondering if he had become a cartoon protagonist in a night without knowing. Was he still Ares, or had he turned into a heroine of a musical play? The words he was greeted with were also nice. What was being asked again? Whether he was alright? The last time someone asked him that was when he jumped off the second floor for another choreographed stunt. But then again the free-fall was too glorious; that the musicians themselves were worried he broke a bone or five. The other possibility would be the shopper who insisted on bringing home the best cabbage in the supermarket—for accidentally smacking his head with one.

Then the only possibility would be that he was dead!

… Ares yawned. Curiously, he stared at his hands. If he was dead, could he yawn? Suppose he was a special kind of ghost who could yawn, then why did his breath was warm—like a normal human?

“Ares~?”

That voice was calling on him again. Ares wiped his eyes. Alright, he was not dead then. Time to wash his face and shower nicely so that he started waking up for real, and…

“Are you awake yet? May I enter?”

And reality slapped him across the face.

… Actually, no—forget it. If reality came to wake him up like that, he would take it as a challenge and gladly roundhouse-kick it.

Ares Nordion warily scanned his surroundings. Alright, this wasn’t an unfamiliar setting, after all—he had woken up in his own house. He recognized the same desk facing the window which he leaned against last night. It was still the sturdy mahogany desk he used for his computer; with the drawers which held his papers and stationery alike.

He stood up. Slow but sure everything happening last night came crushing down on him. Right—first of all, Cousin Nanna gave out the key he left her with to a stranger; of whom called Lene Bragi as she introduced herself to him. He remembered not having the heart to kick Lene out of the house. He also remembered more—like his house only had one single bed, spartan by design but very comfortable to be in. And the phone call he had with Cousin Nanna made everything feel like a cliffhanger—he hadn’t spoken with Lene that much last night. It was awkward, yes; but then again what did he expect? What did _she_ expect? They surely could start from Goddess Fortune’s intricate work to make sure that Lene towel-ripping accident didn’t castrate dignity as whole. Yet last night she was eager to ask him the most important question—

Ares scratched his head. He refused Lene had super powers, but she was correct—yes, even his undergarments were black. His house, his rule…

Actually not, considering _he_ was the one who slept in this small room!

“Oh, there you are!” her voice intruded on him. “Hellooo. Good morning!”

He stared in shock.

On a typical day, he would just wake up, probably grab some coffee or whatever the fridge yielded. Probably made a toast or two, probably grabbed some food on the way to the supermarket he worked at. Feeling fit when waking up was more important than anything so he would make sure he did some exercise to start the day… and whatever this was, this definitely wasn’t it. Slowly reality started hitting him like raindrops—whatever this was, it wasn’t his usual normal, and he might as well start adapting.

However above all it was her greeting that stunned him the most.

Lene came into the computer room. Now that she was in his full view, he could see how… different she looked like. When they first met, she gave him the impression of a lost puppy; anxious but at also tough—or at least trying to be—because of the sudden change regarding her circumstances. Seeing her looking livelier and happier admittedly eased his mind a little bit. Perhaps this way they could proceed to have that vital conversation too—how would they living arrangement change, after this?

“Did you sleep well?” Lene strolled inside. Ares gulped a little bit, realizing the mess he had turned the room into. But she was unfazed. He found no laughter, no mockery—no matter how subtle, and that only eased her way into the room better. “I’ll help you clean up,” she said. “After all this is my fault.”

… He was surprised by how soft that voice was.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shrugged. “I can clean up.” He wondered why the smile she wore seemed to lose a bit of vivacity when he said that. Wouldn’t people typically _love_ it when someone else promised to clean for them?

“Well, I just…” she replied. “Wanted to apologize.”

_Oh._

“Maybe this isn’t the best conversation to have in the morning,” she muttered awkwardly. “Um, I’m making us some fried rice. What do you usually have? Oh, don’t worry—not to spy on you, of course. Just wanna know your preference, you know~? So, I ventured around your kitchen a little bit. You have a bag of rice! And then…”

He stared at her. She was going to what?

“R-regardless! Eggs? Or sausages? Which one?”

“Maybe eggs will do,” dumbfounded, he responded to her.

“Hmmm. Your face kinda says no! Is that sleepiness?” Lene pivoted on her legs. She swayed a little bit to hover closer at him. “Ahaaa~ hungry yet? Don’t worry, don’t worry, we’ll get there! Come on~ let’s start the day!”

Needless to say he was too shocked to say anything else. Curious but also wary, he let her take his hand as she ushered him to the pantry. Surprise managed to catch him off guard _twice_ because of how different his pantry looked now. Was Lene a witch, or did he sleep longer than he thought he did? His pantry looked fresh just like Lene herself this morning. First of all, he didn’t know he had a pink a tablecloth. He didn’t even know he had a tablecloth! Two plates were neatly arranged as though this was a cozy little corner of a restaurant, not a spartan house of a bachelor who hardly cooked at home. And…

“Is that a _flower_ I just saw?” he gasped.

“Yes?” she hummed casually. “And that’s your long-neck glass.”

… Ares scratched his head.

“Oooh gosh. You wouldn’t believe it, but ah—did you know you have a flower garden? Or perhaps not a garden. A flower bed! Your yard grows wildflowers. And by the look of it, the soil seems to be receptive of plants. Congratulations!”

“Oh, no need, I didn’t fertilize it myself,” dumbfounded, he opened his mouth.

“Now I begin to wonder if you put up that _KEEP OUT_ sign because you wanted to protect the flowers! Turns out you are not scary—how come your cousins said otherwise?”

“Um…”

“Anyway! Eggs, you said. Fried or poached?”

“Poached? I don’t smuggle animals.”

“Alright, fried it is then~! Spicy?”

“Very yes.”

“Sunny-side?”

“Ah, it’s always hot here but you’ll get used to it.”

“Scrambled?”

“Hmmm. It’s been a while since I played scrabble.”

“Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee sounds great.”

“With cream~?”

“I’m not a child, thank you—I don’t need your help to shave.”

“Alright then~! I don’t understand your answers, but it’s okay, it’s okay! We are all a little bit dumb sometimes—oh, rest assured, of course I mean you, not me.”

“Hmm...”

“Why don’t you sit down? I’ll bring the food here!”

Ares obeyed without hesitation. Alright—perhaps not _completely_ without hesitation, but who wouldn’t be curious after all that happened? The table where he usually took his meals had looked rather… sweet. He didn’t even know his yard grew flowers. He didn’t even realize he had that long-neck glass. And what was that heavenly smell coming out of _his_ pantry? This was also very new to him—he didn’t even know his pantry could be so cultured and produce human food smells!

“There you go~!” Lene was back. She brought a sizzling pan this time and rolled whatever was inside into their plates, evenly distributing it. By the time her spatula _talked,_ Ares could smell some nice aromatic spices emanating from every scoop she took. Fascinated but also impressed, he let himself be served. What a curious way to start the morning, but then again…

But then again he was not complaining.

“Thank you,” he muttered quietly.

Smiling, she gave him a little nod. They ate the food in silence, giving him a chance to savor everything plated there. Such a curious experience indeed—never had he taken his food with another person, let alone being served like this. That was probably the best breakfast he ever had so far after leaving his parents’ house, but he decided to save his praises to tell her… in a way or another for later. Lene looked so engrossed in her food. He wondered if she was very aware of her skill because she faced her plate solemnly like that. His curiosity bloomed even bigger—it was as though she was eating so sentimentally!

Delicious food never took a long time to finish, however. Very soon after both Ares and Lene cleaned their plates. There was nothing left in that pan for both of them to share and split; the fact which the lady stranger seemed to rejoice about. Ares thought he should be generous enough to at least _smile_ at her, but—

“… Are you alright?”

His blunt question startled her and he wondered if he had made a fool of himself then.

“You look sad,” Ares continued. “You asked me if I was alright just because you heard me cussing back there.” The follow-up quickly caught up before she could ask. Apparently the question hit bulls-eye because she transformed before his eyes—cheeks flustered, body language loosened; complete with a demure gesture pushing her plate away. He caught that too. Subtle it might be, working at the security industry did make him… perceptive. It was, after all, his job to watch people.

“For an alleged vampire, you are so curious,” Lene replied in a low tone. When she turned around to take the pan into the sink, she didn’t hear any comment from him… and that realization started kicking in. The sounds water pouring out of the faucet made everything less awkward, but—

… She couldn’t believe it.

When she returned to the table, the alleged vampire slash new landlord had his hands crossed under his chin. The look he was wearing stayed just as she recognized him to be in—sharp but perceptive, keen yet… warm at the same time. There was some tea left to be finished before they were truly done for the morning, and much to her surprise, Ares brought down his hands—

It was impossible to pretend his lips weren’t twitching then.

Ares had a tame look—kinder the moment her eyes set sail on his too. “Alright,” he replied simply. “Let’s talk then.”

“I’m not sad,” she huffed.

“Allegedly.”

“Not answering a vampire. Just tell me how much should I pay you for the rent.”

“Also allegedly,” he shrugged calmly. “Miss Bragi.”

She paused.

“See—even if I want to draw rent fee out of you, I need to know the circumstances to decide. I have never had a human tenant.”

“You know what,” Lene snapped her fingers. “That’s actually fair.”

“Hmm.”

“How about you then?” she looked at him. “I was told you were going to shoot a movie for a couple of months. So why… aren’t you?”

He breathed in. “Supposedly. But I failed the audition.”

That answer successfully stunned her at her seat. “Failed?” she asked. “Oh my—God? I mean—if you anticipate you would be gone and even went as far as giving your cousin a spare key, then it almost sounds like they promised you.”

“Well,” Ares cleared his throat. “In a way. I received praises throughout the whole audition. There were words if I could clear my schedule. Questions regarding whether I could drive, swim… things like that. Things that speak of a travel.”

“Why didn’t you get the role?” she asked seamlessly. It was out of reflex, she swore; yet when his gaze turned cloudy, guilt crept on her. “Sorry,” her follow-up was meek. This fire she kept—could it be toned down? Would she… burn him?

“Nah. It’s alright.” To her relief and surprise—again--Ares simply shrugged. “I don’t know. Never told anything. I guess shit just happens.”

“Oh…”

“And now I’m back at my old job. Thankfully I haven’t filed the notice,” he took a sip. She observed that he took a generous amount of tea, as though he was taking a shot. This time, she thought she decided she would act as though she didn’t see that—or the little cough he made because the liquid he was drinking was hot. “Well?”

When Lene spoke, there was a jaded which he took notice of as well. The girl he suddenly got entangled with was certainly younger considering the friendship she shared with his cousins, but there was more beyond what met the eyes to consider. For starter, his so-called new roommate had the kind of tenacity he had never spotted in a person—let alone from someone younger, and certainly not among his own colleagues. Nanna did have a graceful determination air about her, but he began to suspect that it might be just a Nordion trait that refused to be out outshone even when there was another last name which followed it. Right—Lene was _fierce._ He could sense her eagerness to speak, but at the same time it was careful.

… He frowned then. Dancers were storytellers too—so what toned this down?

“Just like you, I suppose. Diarmuid helped me shooting a reel,” she replied in a low voice. “I’m a—“

He wondered why she looked sheepish. What, an adult dancer? They were both grown-ups and it wasn’t like he didn’t _know._ “Yes?”

If only he knew his indifferent tone actually helped to boost her morale. Perhaps because it was just that, yet such flatness had come off sympathetic to her. Maybe because he hardly batted an eye about it.

“Waitress,” finally she spoke. “Just—a waitress.”

“Ah. I see.”

She waited, but Ares simply put his hand under the chin—a sign which said he had was listening, and probably eager for more. That easy? Wouldn’t he want something more dramatic? Something which landed her there in the first place, like a stranded travelers?

“Landlord kicked me out. I was busy pursuing dance gigs including shooting a reel to build a portfolio with your cousin. I didn’t notice they were raising rent fee for the next month,” she inhaled. “And I didn’t know. I—apparently he slid the letter under the door. I didn’t notice it. Must have been stuck near the mat or something. But then…” she made another sigh. Ares, on the other hand, casually poured more tea for her.

He gave her a simple nod.

… Her hands trembled as she reached the cup. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I just—gods. Thank you. I mean…” she tilted her face to look at him. He held another object to give to her—a pack of tissue! That certainly made her _gasp,_ but with the same firm taciturnity from prior, he simply bobbed his head.

“I said I didn’t have a heater or air conditioner, not tissues.”

The twinkle in his eyes made an encore and she prayed he didn’t think of her as ridiculous. Wait—was that… pity? “Eventually I noticed it. The problem is, a bit too late. I had half of the demanded amount saved as an emergency instant cash, but that’s the thing—my paycheck got delayed because the cafe owner was hospitalized out of stomach flu when payday came. It was a small shop, not a part of big chain and run by a family,” she continued. “It was a pure mistake. I offered half and just—wait until they could get their account running on behalf of the sick boss.”

“And they didn’t want to hear you so you got kicked out,” he replied.

“Well. Yes,” she looked down.

“And the landlord still took what you offered?” Ares asked again. When she nodded hesitatingly, he couldn’t resist—some chuckles went past his throat. Those ripples came off dark and sinister, and she got her answer—he did _not_ laugh at her misery. “Alright then, Lene,” he clapped his hands. “I suppose you’re stuck with me for now.”

“Only until I get a new crib, I promise!” she snatched a response like a hunting bird. If he accepted the explanation, then he would see that she was not daft—she could pay debt. She _could_ pay her rent on her own too. “Since Nanna thought you’d be doing a movie, this house would be left empty. She said you expected her to come checking the house twice a week for the cleaning and inspection whilst you are filming, and…”

“Correction—I’m paying her to look after my house.”

“And I’ll do just that,” she muttered sheepishly. “You won’t have to pay me.”

He hummed.

“I’m serious, you see~? I even found this pan. Near your bookshelf! Goodness. What did you usually use to cook? And why on earth was this on the shelf?”

“I didn’t even know I had a pan.”

“What?! How come?”

“It’s just me, though. One pot is enough as long as it’s washed after usage.”

“Unbelievable,” she put her hands on her hips. “A pan is nicer for a meal which requires flat surface to work on! What happens when you want rice like mine just now? Fried noodles? Eggs? Braised meat?”

“… Bruised meat?”

“Braised, Ares, braised!”

“I—“ he choked on his tea. “I have never wrapped protein with—a bra.”

“… Dear gods,” Lene’s jaw must be dislocated now. “And your face is red too.”

“Natural isn’t it. If it’s blue, then I am dead.”

She gave her forehead a voluntary slap because at this point she wondered if slapping _him_ would do wonder to humanity and beyond. “Ares, you...”

“Ah, about money and all that, yes,” unperturbed but also _dignified,_ he took charge of the conversation! “Frankly, I don’t know jack shit about this. I have never split the bills with a roommate-whatsoever. Honestly, even if I have to name a price, I don’t know how much.”

“Y-you…”

“So let’s figure this out along the way. Since you are also eager to find a new place to stay, I suppose we are on the same page here,” Ares responded… with a straight face still. “We can pay household utilities instead. Food, the internet—“

“You have a Wi-Fi! I’m so glad! Thank goodness, vampires these days are savvy.”

“I’m not sure what makes you beam like that, but alright,” Ares ruffled his mane. “We’ll figure out how to make it fair for both of us.”

“I can’t wait. I’m sure your pantry is actually very humane.”

“I don’t wear panties.”

“Thank you for the enlightenment.”

“I want us to keep our things separate. You and your laundry and clothes, and…”

“And you and a thousand black fabrics of yours.”

“Thousand clothes? Waste of money!”

“Shirtless is fine with me too!” she sighed.

“Huh?” he peeked at her.

“… I mean. Yes. Of course. Black is too grim and gloomy for me after all… um, yes, sure~! Let’s split the dryer too—your area, my area!”

“Alright, good. And now I believe both of us need to get ready for work—“

“Where?” she blurted. When he turned around, somehow she got shy. Why, this was supposed to be an alliance of convenience—who cares where he worked at, anyway? “I suppose if I know you are working on shifts, then it will be easier to—match hours. I mean—I thought you would want your key back.”

“I do.”

“Right,” she nodded back at him. “My place is that cafe close to this grocery store that holds food produce discounts every Friday.”

“… That’s my place,” he coughed softly.

“For real now?! So we’ve been work neighbors without knowing each other?”

“How are we work neighbors if we don’t… you know what, never mind. You have such a unique style to phrase… things, I guess,” now _he_ sighed back. “And how do you get there?”

“Bus?” she said. “Well—it was by bus.”

He quirked his eyebrows as well.

“Seems it’s more convenient to go around this neighborhood driving on your own because the stop is about a mile away,” she mustered an awkward laughter. “But I _know_ I will manage! After all I came here dragging that old suitcase—you can be proud of me a little bit.”

“A little bit is a wise way to put it,” he replied diplomatically. “Maybe we can go to work together too. Saves money.”

She gaped at him.

“I imagine it will be quite risky to have you walk a mile from the bus stop when it gets dark. Since we both do service and retail, why not just make things easier?”

“Oh—wow,” unable to say anything else, out of reflex she grabbed his hands. “Thank you! Oh gods, thank you very much! I know it—you are really kind!”

“Maybe because we are stuck with each other, like you said.” Oh, he knew he had to try to make his reply sound monotone. Her spontaneous gesture was surprising to say the least, but it would be lying to deny that it was… warm. He couldn’t recall the last time people ardently thanked him like that—did that ever happen at all? He could feel her sincerity in it, and the eagerness made everything endearing.

… Was she?

“Then I suppose this needs a little celebration,” she hummed pleasantly. “Do you like cheese, or are you perhaps lactose intolerant~? You know what, I think I can fix something extra for both of us tonight. I’ll give you a vampire serving, you know~? Let this be a good amiable start for both of us. Again, terribly sorry for being the guest you didn’t want, but I promise—I will do the best to compensate it!”

“I like my steak quite well-cooked,” he replied in a flat tone. “And while that might be true, perhaps…”

“Yes~?”

Ares noted that Lene had spoken in his tone and mannerism, only… cheerier.

“Heh. I’m late. Bathroom is mine,” he shot her a smirk. From the corner of his eyes he captured her shadow making a flight back to the room she stayed the night in, yelling a thing or two about _yes,_ she needed to get ready too because her stuck-in-the-suitcase clothes needed to be ironed. A spark tickled his chest when he heard her saying he could take his time showering because as a security guard he was supposed to be at work earlier than she was. How curious. This was indeed a new dawn for him, but for some reason, he was curious yet excited.

“I hope you are hungry because tonight I’ll feed you well!” he heard her melodious voice the moment before he entered the bathroom.

… Oh, gods. He was glad he hadn’t entered when she spoke.

“And why again?”

Coherence was something, but eloquence was another. Did they need a blabbering poet at a fight scene? At an action scene? No—they needed someone who could punch and punch back. Or probably getting blown up in a car as many villain’s henchmen in movies tended to meet their fate. Either way—

“Because,” she hummed. “When you said you failed your audition, it was also…”

He heard a thumping sound.

“… Are you alright in there?”

“Y-yes, definitely. It’s just the suitcase—again.”

He made a mental note to wax that suitcase tonight.

“… You looked so sad as though you needed a good cry but just couldn’t.”

_Ah._

“And um… oh, sorry for blabbering, yes! Oh, gods—thankfully he’s already inside.”

Ares Nordion, twenty-something millennial, sincerely thought he was cursed. First thing first, yes, he failed that goshdarn action movie audition, and the main actor was an annoying person with a bowl cut. Yes, perhaps the day where he was rejected had been rough because half of his dignity wanted to _rebel_ out of being defeated by someone with bowl cut fringes, and there was this sudden tenant-roommate-work neighbor-whatever that stranded herself at his house.

Some people said there would be moments where one was most sober; to which one felt the most enlightening experience afterwards. Clear mind, peaceful concession with oneself; all the flowery _shit_ he had negative _fuck_ to give. Lene might be the guest he did not want—

… But she might just be the guest he never thought he needed.


End file.
